


Lead the Way

by Drenagon



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:36:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21934600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drenagon/pseuds/Drenagon
Summary: If you accidentally (see: due to poor planning and preparation) end up shopping on the most stressful day of the year, perhaps the only thing that could make it better is finding someone to lead the way.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Bofur
Comments: 25
Kudos: 120





	Lead the Way

This, Bilbo realised, as he surveyed the hordes massed against him, had been a truly disastrous idea.

Catastrophic, even.

It only went to prove that his neighbours back home in the Shire were right and his impulsive tendencies would never bring him anything but trouble.

After all, what sort of idiot decided to go shopping on _Christmas Eve_?

Shoved backwards in the direction he emphatically did _not_ wish to be going, yet again, Bilbo concluded that the answer was fools with seriously impaired judgement. Like him.

Damn his mother for guilt-tripping him about the evils of buying everything online.

Damn both his parents, in fact, for being so short and making Bilbo ridiculously short and slight in turn (except for the belly pudge which he was pretending didn’t exist, thank-you-very-much, and that any polite person would also diplomatically ignore).

Oh, alright, and damn himself for putting shopping off until the last minute. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have had to come out today and deal with this… nightmare.

Bracing himself, Bilbo leaned forward and began pushing ahead again, trying to make his way up the road towards his destination instead of being inexorably shoved back down towards the main street that most people wanted to be on.

He made it all of fifty feet before he found himself defeated once again. He paused for a moment to try and find a gap in the crowd and then was shoved abruptly sideways, the side of his face stinging where some person’s bag had just whacked into it as they shoulder-barged him out of the way.

‘Ow,’ he complained, as much out of surprise as anything. Damnit but people were so _rude_! Would being 30 seconds slower have killed whoever-that-was?

‘You alright, mate?’ a deep voice queried, and suddenly Bilbo wasn’t being buffeted by people as he tried to catch his breath anymore. ‘Here, come on, let’s get you out the way.’

The man speaking to him was average-height (so tallish in comparison to Bilbo), but he was broad enough to plant his feet against the crowds and guide Bilbo through. He was helped considerably by his companion, only slightly taller but almost twice as wide, who didn’t even have to shove past because people naturally moved to avoid him as he smiled genially at them.

‘Oh,’ Bilbo said intelligently, as he suddenly found himself in a quiet corner where the wall of one shop extended out past the front of its neighbour, protected by the men standing before him. ‘Um, thank you.’

The unexpected quiet gave him a chance to examine his saviours in more detail, and he realised that they were older than him, but not by much. The shorter of the two was dark-haired, and that hair fell in a messy mop, covered by a ridiculous winter hat that made him look as if he’d escaped from a trip to Alaska or some such. The moustache did not help that impression at all, although Bilbo thought perhaps it wouldn’t be bad if it was trimmed a little to match the beard. Dressed in old jeans, a dark blue jumper and a brown jacket, his rescuer was the sort of person that Bilbo might pass on the street nine times out of ten without noticing.

The tenth time he’d notice, he thought with a slight catch in his breath, because everything changed when the man smiled. His eyes lit up with the sort of twinkle that Bilbo thought only existed in books, his expression became positively mischievous, and everything about him suddenly invited a person to jump right into whatever chaos he was clearly planning.

Goodness, it was all a little overwhelming. If Bilbo was one of his mother’s friends, he’d be fanning himself like a heroine in a bad romance novel.

He turned his attention to the second man in an attempt to regain his sanity, and immediately wondered if the two of them had become friends when they bonded over terrible hair decisions. Those whiskers didn’t suit this redhaired man a jot, although the amiable smile that Bilbo had noticed before made it hard to criticise. A huge tent of a jumper that looked homemade, accompanied by a pair of jeans far less tatty than his companion’s, made Bilbo wonder if someone else was dressing the big man.

‘No need,’ the shorter of Bilbo’s protectors assured, dragging Bilbo from contemplation as he responded to the expression of gratitude. ‘We certainly couldn’t leave you there. What a bunch of arseholes! Who brains someone with their bag and just keeps going, eh? If we’d been a bit closer, Bombur would have bounced the twat.’

‘ _Bounced_ them?’ Bilbo queried, wondering if he’d hit his head a bit harder than expected. Perhaps that explained why none of this really made sense.

‘Oh aye,’ his chatty companion – who apparently _wasn’t_ Bombur – replied. ‘If he gets close enough and stumbles the right way, he can usually get them to bounce off his stomach and right onto the floor. Complete accident, of course. Can’t help being a bit clumsy when you’re the size of my brother.’

His brother (Bombur, Bilbo corrected himself) just beamed at them beatifically, as if he’d never deliberately tripped anyone up a day in his life.

Bilbo began to laugh, unexpectedly and somewhat helplessly, as he regarded the pair of them.

‘Bilbo Baggins,’ he told them, holding out his hand rather than comment on the bouncing. ‘You must be Bombur,’ he continued, looking at the redhaired man, who nodded a bit shyly.

‘I am,’ he confirmed in a surprisingly soft voice. ‘Bombur Bamfurson. The loudmouth is Bofur. It’s nice to meet you, Bilbo.’

‘Cheek,’ Bofur muttered, with indignation that even Bilbo could tell was fake. ‘This is why everyone runs screaming from us, you know. You give a bad impression of me before I can even begin charming them.’

Bombur rolled his eyes. ‘If I thought you had any charm to use, I wouldn’t try to warn people off before they got caught in the madness,’ he informed his brother dryly. Then he looked out the corner of his eye at Bilbo slyly and murmured, ‘Run. Run for your life.’

Bilbo let out an embarrassing giggle at the interplay between them and began wondering if it would seem awkward to ask for the phone numbers of two people who’d only stopped to do the decent thing by making sure he didn’t get trampled in the Christmas Eve madness.

Probably, but they seemed such a good laugh and Bilbo was a bit lonely since he’d moved to the city. His colleagues were all so focused and ambitious and… boring.

His thoughts were interrupted, once again, by Bofur.

‘How’s the lad going to run for his life?’ he queried exasperatedly. ‘He can’t even move in all this nonsense! At least,’ and he looked at Bilbo a little sheepishly, the first time Bilbo had seen anything except complete confidence on his face, ‘I’m assuming that you don’t just walk backwards for the hell of it, mate?’

Bilbo snorted.

‘No, not as a rule,’ he admitted. ‘I try to avoid looking like a prat, usually. I wasn’t expecting all this,’ he gestured behind them, to the madness continuing on outside his shelter. ‘Bit naïve, but I haven’t tried Christmas Eve shopping in the city before. It’s a little intense.’

‘Batshit crazy, you mean,’ Bofur interpreted, that twinkle appearing in his eye as Bilbo nodded perhaps a little too fervently. ‘It is that. Perfectly sensible people turn into orcs and dragons out of the old tales, ready to kill if it means they get what they want. Every year, we say we won’t do it, and every year…’

‘Every year, we realise we’ve forgotten something for at least one of the kids and we end up here anyway,’ Bombur finished, rolling his eyes gently. ‘I’d rather do this than face them tomorrow when Bifa realises that Santa _didn’t_ bring her a present, but all her brothers and sisters got one.’

Bofur snorted. ‘Santa manages to make a list and check it twice for every kid in the world, supposedly – Bombur and his Nula can’t even manage it for six of them!’

Bombur calmly gave him the finger, and Bilbo found himself laughing again before he reluctantly drew himself up away from the wall.

‘Then it sounds as if I’ve kept the two of you quite long enough,’ he told them, wishing as soon as he’d said it that he didn’t sound quite so prim. ‘Thank you again for the rescue.’

The brothers exchanged a short glance – one of those looks that Bilbo always read about but had never actually experienced, where people managed to have entire conversations without saying a word to each other – and then Bofur cleared his throat a tad nervously.

‘Look, mate, not to sound like an arse but… will you be alright out there?’ he said gently. ‘I mean,’ he hurried on, ‘obviously you can walk down a street by yourself but Bombur doesn’t actually _need_ me for shopping, so if you wanted some company to ward off any stray bags…’ he trailed off again and Bilbo tried to decide whether to bristle or not.

Yes, he was small, and crowds were a pain in the backside, and he had not appreciated being smacked on the head, and he had appreciated Bofur’s earlier assistance. Still, he was an adult and not some frail flower who was going to be crushed to death the instant he stepped out on his own, or some uppity King who couldn’t go anywhere without a passel of bodyguards (okay, perhaps he was still a little bit bitter about being treated like a groupie by King Thorin’s bodyguard the other week when he was at the ballet, but that was a completely different story).

The point was, this afternoon had been an anomaly!

Then Bombur chuckled softly.

‘Take pity on him, Bilbo,’ he requested in his quiet voice. ‘He’s been in so many toy shops in the last few weeks, I think his eyes are going to start bleeding from the colour and glitter soon. In fact, I wouldn’t wish a toy shop on anyone today. He’s been looking for a reason to abandon ship since we met up.’

Bilbo thought about that for all of a second before he smirked.

‘Then perhaps I shouldn’t give him one,’ he said thoughtfully, eyeing Bofur knowingly. ‘Isn’t suffering meant to be good for the soul?’

‘Not my soul,’ Bofur objected firmly, apparently sensing surrender in Bilbo’s expression. ‘Wherever you’re going has to be better than where Bombur’s going. It’s more likely to have coffee, if nothing else. Goodbye, brother. Good luck!’

With that, he caught hold of Bilbo’s arm and pulled him back out on to the street, deftly manoeuvring towards the top of the road that Bilbo had been so utterly failing to reach not ten minutes before.

‘You realise that some people might consider this to be kidnapping?’ Bilbo teased, wondering a little that he didn’t consider it such himself. ‘We’ve only known each other five minutes,’ he continued, almost to himself.

Bofur frowned suddenly. ‘Want me to leave you alone, mate?’ he asked, as seriously as he could when they were still fighting the oncoming crowds. ‘Everyone’s always telling me I come on too strong when I get an idea in my head. Not good at taking no for an answer.’

Bilbo considered it for maybe a minute, then thought about the amount of fun he’d had in those few minutes in Bofur’s company, as opposed to the trauma of shopping on his own for the first hour or two.

‘No, we’re fine,’ he reassured. ‘Lead the way.’

‘Wonderful,’ Bofur replied, grinning widely as he tightened his grip on Bilbo’s arm a little. Then he paused them at the top of the road. ‘Where are we going?’

***

Shopping with Bofur, it turned out, was a whole new experience.

The man didn’t know how to do anything the simple way. Or the quiet way. Or without some element of ‘fun’ involved.

Where Bilbo arrowed straight towards whatever he’d come to a shop for, Bofur got distracted by whatever caught his eye (shiny things, he told Bilbo, as he gently tugged him along to look) and had them perusing half the shop. Bilbo had no need for Christmas decorations, but they’d spent at least twenty minutes going all through a display and mentally decorating a Christmas tree, just because. It made Bilbo _want_ a tree, when he hadn’t bothered with one since he left home.

Where Bilbo tended to pay very little attention to what was going on around him, Bofur hummed and sang along with the carols coming over the speakers, catching the eye of other shoppers and making them grin back at him when he smiled and sang a bit louder.

And though Bilbo had been certain he was just going to buy his parents the same things he’d bought them every year (the perfume he knew his Mum liked; the slippers his Dad had worn since Bilbo was a child), Bofur had begun a game of, ‘What’s the wackiest thing you could buy them that they wouldn’t throw away as soon as you left?’

‘Oh sweet Valar, Bofur, _no_!’ Bilbo objected with a horrified laugh. Somehow they’d ended up in the bookshop, even though Bilbo didn’t even need to go to the bookshop, and Bofur was holding up the least appropriate book Bilbo could possibly think of with a teasing gleam in his eye. ‘Just _NO_! I don’t even want to think about it. That’s awful.’

Bofur’s straight face failed him and he cracked up laughing.

‘You don’t think they’d appreciate the tips?’ he asked, not at all seriously, and Bilbo gave into the urge to tug the book out of his hand, whack him with it – gently – and then put it back.

‘I do not,’ he said firmly. ‘This one, maybe,’ he said, a moment later, having pulled Bofur out of dangerous waters and into the much less perilous travel section. ‘Mum would like this one.’ He held up a book about the far north, brimming with colour photos of breath-taking views, and smiled at it gently.

‘Why that one?’ Bofur asked, more serious now, leaning over Bilbo and resting his chin on Bilbo’s head as if that was a perfectly normal way to get a better look at something. Bilbo took in a deep breath, startled, and shivered at the proximity.

Valar, had Bofur been that warm when they’d been standing around earlier?

Then he mentally shook himself, reminding himself that Bofur had asked a question, and looked back at the book.

‘It’s somewhere she’s never been,’ he said, smiling again and stroking one finger over the pages. ‘She used to travel a fair bit, before I was born, but never very far. I think she meant to go farther but there was always some reason why she couldn’t. Then I happened and the travelling just… stopped. She’d like this, to see what she could be seeing.’

‘Sounds like you’ve found a present to me,’ Bofur said softly, giving Bilbo an equally soft smile and a gentle nudge. ‘Also, like someone might need to encourage his parents to book a holiday, but that’s just my nosiness getting loose again.’

‘Hmm,’ Bilbo murmured thoughtfully, looking down at the book again. ‘Maybe you’re right.’

He squeezed Bofur’s arm without thinking about it, startling again when Bofur tensed and giving him a querying look. Bofur just shrugged and nudged him onwards.

‘Go on, go and buy your book,’ he insisted, so Bilbo did.

If he was a little bit distracted while he was buying it, no one needed to know but him.

***

Buying a present for his Dad went much the same way, Bofur poking and prodding until Bilbo came away with something different than he’d planned, but more thoughtful because of it. He was taking another happy glance inside the bags, surveying his haul contentedly, when Bofur asked, ‘Fancy a coffee before you head home?’

Bilbo looked up at him and caught the tentative hope on his face, before the normal confident expression reasserted itself, and found himself beaming without even meaning to.

‘Sounds perfect,’ he told Bofur warmly. ‘Lead the way.’

Of course, it wasn’t quite that simple. The coffee shop they picked was utter mayhem, and Bilbo nearly took out some of their Christmas decorations, tripped over some lady’s shopping bags and ended up in a punch up with a pair of teenagers before he managed to get them a table. Bilbo got fierce glares from the teenagers, who’d been in the queue in front of Bofur and hadn’t thought to divide forces so one of them could pinch the next free table, but honestly he was beyond caring.

  1. He was nearly 30 and they were about 15, so they weren’t high on his list of people to impress; and
  2. He was pretty sure Bofur was trying to drag their afternoon out the same way Bilbo was, which meant he might not be the only one with a pathetically immediate crush. In which case… teenagers, what teenagers?



‘Here you go, darlin’,’ Bofur offered, as he set the tray down. Then he shut his eyes for the briefest moment and Bilbo could have sworn he blushed slightly too. ‘Sorry, force of habit. I’m terrible for pet names. I do it to everyone.’

‘It’s fine,’ Bilbo rushed to assure him, which would only have reinforced his lack of cool to anyone listening. ‘I don’t mind. It’s nice, actually.’

‘Yeah?’ Bofur asked hopefully, smiling just a bit too widely. Bilbo grinned back equally foolishly and nodded, then took a gulp of his drink to try and stop himself doing or saying anything else stupid.

‘Ah, too hot, too hot,’ he hissed a second later, putting the mug down sharply and trying to fan his poor burnt tongue.

‘Whoa, easy, darlin’,’ Bofur laughed. ‘You don’t have to drink it all at once.’ Then he got up and disappeared across the room, and Bilbo slumped in his seat, wondering for a second if he’d actually managed send the other man running with his complete inability to act like a normal person in front of someone he liked.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

Before he could get as far as banging his head on the table, Bofur reappeared, glass of water in hand.

‘Here, try this,’ he suggested easily. ‘Bit gentler on the mouth while your coffee cools.’

‘Oh, that’s what you,’ Bilbo babbled, then stopped himself and tried again. ‘Thank you, Bofur.’

‘Yeah,’ Bofur confirmed, cocking his head to the side as he sat, ‘that’s what I…. Where did you think I’d gone?’

Damn him for choosing now to be perceptive. Or Bilbo for being so bloody obvious.

‘Nowhere in particular,’ Bilbo said as casually as he could, shrugging and looking carefully at his hands on the glass of water, fingers rubbing through the condensation gathering on the sides.

Bofur was silent for a few breaths, then he said suddenly, ‘You know, you’re dealing with me remarkably well.’

Bilbo’s head snapped up and he stared at Bofur in surprise. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘These last few hours,’ Bofur continued ruefully, rubbing his hand over his bearded chin in what was clearly a nervous gesture. ‘Most people can handle me in public for about an hour, maybe two, before they want to murder me or shut me in a dark room away from the rest of the world.’

Bilbo just kept staring at him, hands now unmoving on the glass.

‘But _why_?’ he asked finally, stunned.

Bofur only laughed, a little harshness under the humour.

‘Because I’m _annoying_ , Bilbo,’ he pointed out, as if it was obvious fact. ‘I’m loud. I’m over the top. I talk constantly. I draw attention to myself without really meaning to and I embarrass people. My family don’t mind. They’re used to me. But for a lot of people I’m just… too much.’

‘Oh,’ Bilbo said, stupidly. It wasn’t that the thought hadn’t occurred to him at all. Once or twice, Bofur’s singing had become particularly loud, or he’d joked at a slightly higher volume than Bilbo was used to, and Bilbo had instinctively looked around to see if anyone was looking at them.

Then he’d told himself to get a bloody grip. Bofur was sweet, and funny, and kind. The sort of person who stopped in a crowd to check a perfect stranger was okay. The sort of person who could make a boring day of shopping into an adventure.

If he was a little bit ‘over the top’, who cared?

‘I think we must make a good pair then,’ Bilbo said, breaking the slightly awkward silence that had fallen between them. ‘Usually I get told I’m _not enough_ of something. Not interesting enough. Not outgoing enough. Occasionally not tall enough.’

‘Hey, what wanker said that?’ Bofur interjected, all indignation. ‘You’re perfect-sized, love. And very interesting _and_ funny, if people stop flapping their mouth long enough to listen.’

Bilbo raised an eyebrow at him.

‘You can’t have been talking that much, then, can you?’ he said pointedly. ‘If you’ve listened.’

Bofur thought for a moment, then chuckled.

‘No,’ he agreed. ‘S’pose not.’ He looked thoughtful again, drawing a circle around the top of his mug with one finger. ‘You doing the family thing tomorrow?’

‘Hmm,’ Bilbo confirmed, a little taken aback by the sudden change of topic. ‘I need to deliver these presents.’

‘And Bombur always has a big family party on Boxing Day,’ Bofur murmured, apparently to himself. ‘Alright then,’ he said a second later, taking a slightly deeper breath and looking Bilbo straight in the eyes. ‘Go out with me on the 27th?’

Bilbo felt a wide grin splitting his face even as Bofur finished speaking. He reached out his hand, pulling Bofur’s away from its nervous tracing of the mug rim, and slid their fingers together.

‘I’d like that,’ he said firmly. ‘I’d like that a lot.’

‘Oh good,’ Bofur nearly sighed, as if there’d been any doubt at this point. He sounded so relieved that Bilbo’s heart, bizarrely, began thumping in his chest. It didn’t slow down at all when Bofur pulled Bilbo’s hand up to his mouth and brushed a tickly kiss across the back. ‘How do you feel about pizza?’

‘I think after two days of my mother’s Christmas dinner and leftovers, I will be dying for a pizza,’ Bilbo informed him, unable to stop smiling. He tugged gently on their hands until Bofur got the hint and relaxed his arm, then pressed his own kiss to the back of Bofur’s hand as sweetly as he could. And, yes, perhaps the teenagers from before were staring at them from a nearby table. And maybe that older couple were whispering things which might or might not be complimentary from just behind Bofur.

With Bofur looking at him like he’d just completed some mythical quest and presented Bofur with the keys to a kingdom, Bilbo realised he didn’t care.

After all, tomorrow, when the inevitable rounds of ‘What about you, Bilbo, are you seeing anyone?’ began, Bilbo would be able to say, ‘Yes, I am, actually.’ Wouldn’t that improve the warm glow of Christmas Day by several notches?

Even better, while they all gaped at him, he’d be able to think about Bofur leaning up behind him with his chin on Bilbo’s head, saying ‘Why that one?’

And the answer would be, ‘Because we have fun.’

******

**Author's Note:**

> I kept meaning to write a Bilbo/Bofur story and I decided a Christmas fic was the best style for them!
> 
> Happy Christmas, all. I hope you enjoyed. As always, please let me know what you thought.


End file.
